


Remember Me

by Peps4lyfe



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Wanda Maximoff & Peter Parker Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 06:25:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18845467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peps4lyfe/pseuds/Peps4lyfe
Summary: (MAJOR AVENGERS: ENDGAME SPOILERS!!!)As the aftermath of Endgame and the undoing of the snap continues to unfold, Peter Parker struggles to find his footing again without Tony Stark.  Only, Peter realizes that he isn't the only person trying to move past the destruction Thanos left behind.





	Remember Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> First, if you have not seen Endgame and do not want the movie spoiled for you, exit now because this contains LOTS of spoilers. I realize it's been several weeks since the movie come out... but just in case!
> 
> After getting my heart wrenched out for 180 minutes, I had a million different ideas of how I envisioned Far From Home being introduced and integrated into the MCU. This story, you could say, is the introduction/beginning of FFH. 
> 
> I had to make a few assumptions and had to fill in some of the holes that was left after Endgame, but I hope you all like it :)
> 
> Enjoy!

What if Peter Parker wasn’t Spider-Man?

What if Peter had ignored Flash Thompson at that field trip to Oscorps Headquarters?  _Come on, Parker, stop being such a wuss!_ Flash kept shouting, pointing to that weird looking room with all the spiders.  Peter could have just walked away like everyone else in the class was capable of doing, but Peter had a point to prove.  He wasn’t pathetic.  He wasn’t afraid, like Flash had suggested to all of his friends.  So, Peter foolishly slipped into the locked room with all the experiments, got bit by that stupid radioactive spider, and what do you know? Spider-Man was born.

Only, there were nights where Peter wished he hadn’t done that.  May, Ben, his parents, Ned, all of his teachers… they always told Peter that walking away was easier than giving in and doing stupid things because of what another person said.  Peter kicked himself for becoming Spider-Man on nights when every single muscle in his body hurt because of a fight he got into, or nights when he could hear—thanks to the sharpened senses from the spider bite—May crying herself to sleep because she was so scared something was going to happen to Peter. Things would be so much simpler for Peter if he wasn’t Spider-Man.  And simpler for May.  Probably for Ned, too.  The whole guilt-complex/PTSD/anxiety thing Peter has going for him right now wouldn’t feel as unmanageable.  And the whole trying-to-carry-the-weight-of-the-world issue wouldn’t feel so crushing and bleak. 

Thinking about what life would be like not being Spider-Man was an interesting fantasy to play out, but that was all it was.  A fantasy.  A could have been.  An impossibility now, especially after the events that happened at the Avengers’ Compound (or at least what was _left_ of the Avengers’ Compound after Thanos absolutely eviscerated the place) three months ago.  Peter, these past few months, has been relentless with going on rounds. It wasn’t like he had never spent the night dressed in his suit, lurking in the shadows and waiting for criminals, because he has.  _Of course_ he has.  Only, it felt different now.  The need for Peter to endlessly seek out and stop criminals seemed higher than ever, especially given the dwindling superheroes that were still left to protect people from little crimes.  Not just intergalactic space demons coming to Earth to wipe out half the population.  It seemed now, more than ever, given how gloomy and in shock the world still felt, Spider-Man was needed.  Queens needed him.  New York needed him.

But he was getting ahead of himself.  Peter was perched on the edge of a balcony, waiting in the shadows; the gold streaks and splashes of red on his Iron-Spider suit gleamed under the moonlight.  Though it was only 11:30 that night, his rounds were far from uneventful.  Peter had already stopped a mugging, a carjacking and now, he was about to tangled up in an attempted armored car heist.  May warned Peter about an armored car employed by the same bank May works at being robbed tonight.  Judging by the black, licenses-less car skidding through the road, a few cars down from the armored car, May’s prediction was spot-on.  That assumption Peter made was proven when he caught sight of a man leaning out of the window, a gun in his hands.

“Could you make it any more obvious?” Peter muttered, the mask forming around his face, eyes adjusting to the light. 

He leapt off the balcony with a graceful swing and landed directly on the car.  The hood crunched underneath Peter’s weight, letting out this sharp _CRACK_ that echoed.  Obviously, the perps hadn’t been expecting Spider-Man to stop by and break up their heist because as soon as Peter landed on the car, the perp sticking his head out the window jolted, nearly falling out of the car.  “Hate to interrupt!  Let me take this off your hands!” Peter yelled.  He flicked his wrist toward the perp sticking out of the window and yanked the gun away. Whether it was Peter’s carelessness or the perp clutching the trigger, the gun went off, bullets splaying everywhere. With the perp momentarily distracted, Peter webbed up the gun on the side of a building.

The driver must have realized that there was a commotion going on because Peter could barely keep his balance as the car swerved violently.  Peter’s legs gave out and he tumbled around on the roof.  His spider-senses, which is what he called his insane refluxes that identified threats and kept Peter alive, wasn’t going to let him fall completely off the car.  Peter latched a web to the side of the car and used his strength to swing back and kick the window hard enough for it to break.  He threw himself inside, landing directly on two other perps, who had their guns ablaze.  Peter was faster than any criminal he’s ever come to face.  Before anyone could even get a shot off, Peter already pushed the barrel of the guns the men in the back were holding to the ground and kicked the man in the passenger’s seat.  With a few elbows here and a few dodges there, Peter swiftly knocked out the robbers in the backseat.

“Karen, can you get the police down here?” Peter asked. 

Karen, his ever loyal and practically savior of an AI, responded with a polite, “Already did it.”

Peter flung himself forward to the front seat to take out the remaining two perps.  Just as Peter was about to incapacitate the driver, his eyes caught something.  Something big, bright red and distracting. 

It was as if the world came crashing down around Peter.

With his senses impaired, the man in the passenger’s seat kicked Peter square in the chest.  This man must have been pretty strong, because he used enough force to literally throw Peter out of the car.  He tumbled, rolled and crashed into a bench.  Grunting, eyes blistering hot with tears, Peter forced himself back up. Getting thrown into a bench was a setback, yes, but it wasn’t one that would stop Peter.  He hastily shot a grenade web at the car and, though this web was too small to completely capture a vehicle as big as the one the perp was driving, it was enough to tangle up the wheels.  An ugly, screeching noise filled the air as the tires squealed and skidded against the asphalt.  To keep the car from toppling over and severely injuring or killing the criminals, Peter shot another string of webs at the doors and yanked hard to balance it. 

Peter sprinted forward.  The car was shambles, sides dented, windows shattered, and the airbags deployed.  “Sorry ‘bout the car!” Peter yelled.  “And, uh, sorry ‘bout this!”  He yanked the door to the perp’s car off its hinges and threw it aside.  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, where do you think you’re going?!” The two remaining perps were trying to scramble out the broken window, splaying glass everywhere.  Peter didn’t hesitate to the web the criminals up.  He stared, somewhat satisfied, at the two criminals desperately trying to claw their way out of the white, sticky webbing. “Yeah, it’s no use guys.  It’ll be another few hours before that stuff comes off you.  Hey Karen, how far away are the police?”

“Less than a minute away,” Karen said, matter-of-factly.

“The police are less than a minute away,” Peter repeated to the two criminals.  He held his hands up.  “Do you think you two can handle sitting here for a little bit?  What am I kidding? Of course, I can trust you two. But if you don’t mind—” As Peter spoke, he grabbed the guns out of the backseat, tossed them in the air and, without looking, webbed the guns against the wall of a building across from the car, “I’ll take these guns off your hands.”

The sound of sirens interrupted Peter’s banter.  Peter turned to look at the two police cars pulling up to the scene.  The men that stopped out, grasping onto their guns, taking in the scene with worried eyes, looked just as exhausted as Peter.  The number of police officers were dropping.  Peter could only assume that the ones who survived the snap couldn’t fathom being in a position where you’re supposed to serve and protect people, and yet was so helpless in protecting people against Thanos.  Or maybe it was survivor’s guilt, depression, who knows what else, that made officers quit.  And for the ones who didn’t survive the snap, who came back three months ago not knowing what happened to them or their loved ones, they were probably still processing what had happened.  No one could blame the officers who needed time to recover.  But there was some, like these officers now and like Peter, who didn’t know _how_ to recover, who threw themselves into their work because that was all they could understand at the moment.

“Hey officers,” Peter greeted, waving feebly.  “A little attempted armored-car heist.”  He gestured toward the restrained perps.  “No one was hurt, but there’s some damaged property down the street.”

“Thanks for letting us know,” one of the officers—an Officer Cook judging by his name tag—said.  He took out his radio.  “Yeah, looks like we’re all clear down here.  Just have to do the formal arrests, that’s all.  Spider-Man took care of everything.”  Officer Cook turned back to the masked vigilante. “Appreciate it, man.  Queens wouldn’t be the same without you.”

_Queens isn’t the same._

“Yeah, yeah, it’s my pleasure.  Sorry about the mess on the street,” Peter said, gesturing toward the broken glass, the skid marks and the now mauled bench.  “I tried to contain the fight as much as I could, but, er… obviously, that didn’t work too well.”

“It’s alright,” the officer said.  “Not like this is the worst thing that happened to New York.”  It was probably supposed to be a joke, but with everything that’s happened the past decade—Loki’s attack on New York, Thanos’s goons ripping the streets to shreds, the snap—Peter couldn’t help but grimace.

“You’ve been pretty active, lately,” another officer commented in between taking pictures of the scene.  “You trying to be the new Iron-Man now?”

It was supposed to be light banter.  A joke. But to Peter, who had Tony Stark as his mentor for pretty much the entirety of his Spider-Man career, that comment dug deep.  Dug so deep that the open wound Peter had been trying to keep at bay ripped open so hard it felt like Peter’s inside was being burned.  Peter cleared his throat, trying to pass off the comment as harmless. “Yeah.  Yeah, I mean, I can’t be the new Iron-Man.  Too busy doing your job.”

The comment got the reaction Peter was hoping for.  All the other officers let out a chuckle, and for a moment, that laughter seemed genuine.  “Hey, we’re trying here,” the officer taking the pictures said, defensively.

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” Peter reassured. “Look, I’ve gotta take off.  Do you think you guys could take care of the rest?”

The officers nodded.  “Hey, we’ve been fighting crime for a lot longer than you have, bud,” Officer Cook reminded.  “Why don’t you take the rest of the night off?  You’ve been doing plenty.”

“I appreciate that,” Peter nodded.  “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you all around again.”

The officers all gave a disgruntled groan, but Peter was already flying off to a different spot.  Only, he wasn’t going home quite yet.  Peter rounded the corner again to where he was distracted and landed swiftly and quietly on the ground, standing face to face with a shrine.  A shrine for Tony Stark.

It was beautiful, no doubt, but the kind of thing that only appears beautiful and special because of the tragedy behind it.  This shrine featured Iron-Man, mid-flight, hand lifted forward to display a glowing repulsor.  The red and the gold of the Iron-Man suit was bright and vivid, exactly as Peter remembered the colors to be.  Surrounding the shrine were flowers, candles and handwritten notes, scribbled up on the brick wall.  _We love you.  Thank you.  You saved us. Rest in peace._ Every single little note was made out of love, whether that love began with everything that Tony had done for this world or love that came after Tony’s death, after everyone realized the heart that Tony Stark had.  There was only little phrase that stuck with Peter the most, though, that really dug into Peter’s heart. 

_We will remember you._

Four simple words that etched itself into Peter’s brain and lingered in Peter’s heart.  He read the note again.  And again.  Three times. Four times.  Each time he scanned the words, the tears came down harder and harder.  The wooziness was setting in.  His breathing hitched, throat closing up.  Those four words rung in his head, but not with the love and mourning felt when writing this wrote.  All Peter felt was terror.  It remembered Peter so much of the titan Thanos had said.   

_I hope they remember you._

Those words were forever engrained into Peter’s mind.  Those five words were uttered by Thanos as that intergalactic warlord prepared to kill Tony Stark. As Peter had been scrambling around the planet, dodging flying rocks, to save the members of the Guardians of the Galaxy (was that what they called?), Tony went head-to-head with the titan.  Tony looked like he could hold his own and he got some good shots in too.  But it wasn’t enough.  Nothing that they did on that planet, not the fight with Thanos versus Dr. Strange or the endless violence and punches and swings issued from Peter and the others was enough to stop Thanos.  _Nothing_ was enough.

Earth has suffered a lot this past decade, gone through hell and back and somehow survived. But no matter how much Ultron’s plan for human annihilation scared the world, or what the Sokovia Accords did for morale and support for the Avengers, the world could not have prepared for what Thanos had done.  When Peter heard that Thanos’s plan was wipe out half the population, it scared Peter, but not enough for Peter to really dwell on it for too long.  The Avengers always won.  They always foiled the bad guy’s plan, so why would this time be any different?

Wrong.  _God._ Peter was _so_ wrong.  He watched with agonized defeat, every muscle aching with pain, his head throbbing from being smashed onto the ground, as Dr. Strange handed over the Time Stone.  At first, Peter felt a sense of betrayal and anger.  That was the one thing that Thanos wanted, and Dr. Strange just gave it away.  But Peter also knew that there was a lot that Dr. Strange understood that Peter didn’t.  There was one only chance that the world would survive, that _the Avengers_ would win against Thanos, and so everything had to go according to plan.  What Peter didn’t understand was the price that had to be paid in order for the Avengers to win.  As he watched Quill, the weird looking gray guy (Drax, maybe?), Mantis and Dr. Strange all disappear, he was just starting to realize how serious this was.  And then Peter felt like his chest was starting to rip open, his breathing halter, like his insides were slowing falling to pieces. Peter supposed that’s exactly what had happened.  His insides weren’t just falling to pieces—they were turning to dust, and the spider-senses tried to stop it.  It was such a weird feeling: he could feel his legs giving out, but then it was like there were these small surges of energy coming together, willing to Peter to alive.

_I don’t feel so good,_ he remembered just barely making out.  As Peter stumbled, Tony was already by his side, clutching on to what was left of Peter’s arms.  Even in the midst of what Peter thought was him dying, he couldn’t bear to see the look of pain and guilt that was on Tony’s face.  _I’m sorry. I’m sorry._ He kept saying.  Peter was sorry he didn’t fight harder, sorry that he knew Tony was going to carry this guilt for what Peter suspected to be the rest of his life. 

And then nothing. The world went black.

Only, it didn’t. What felt like a mere matter of moments after Peter felt his body _dissolve,_ the world reappeared.  It seemed like Peter was waking up from a deep sleep, leaving him feeling groggy and almost hungover.  He must have been the last one to rematerialize (at least, that’s how Strange described the process of being _undusted_ ) because all the other adults were crowded around him, staring down at him with disbelief and worry.  Peter just assumed he passed out and that Thanos was still on the planet there to fight them.  No. Wrong again.  Dr. Strange didn’t give Peter much time to process what was going on: there was some big fight happening down in New York and they were needed.  Without questioning anything, Peter’s head still spinning, he followed the others through that magical portal and to the fight.  That fight felt like nothing.  Yeah, Peter got a little beat up and a little bloody.  But every hero—people that Peter didn’t even recognize—came to fight.  He was midway through taking out another one of the Outriders when the dusting started again.  This time, though, it was just Thanos’s army and Thanos himself that disappeared.

And just when Peter thought they had won… he saw Tony lying on the ground _dying._ It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.  _They won.  They beat Thanos._ Their most menacing foe was gone.  This was supposed to be the happy ending that Tony and the other Avengers deserved. And Tony didn’t get that ending. No.  He died that die, after sacrificing himself to dust Thanos and his remaining army.  It was Tony’s strength, heart and soul that saved the world.  Peter would have fought all day, killed every single one of those weird-looking Outrider things if it had meant that Tony would have survived. But that’s not what happened. That wasn’t the reality that Peter had to accept.  Yes, Thanos and his army was gone.  Yes, the dusted half of the world was back.  The world felt like it was _recovering_ … but Tony Stark was dead because of it.

At first, the world had expected Captain America, Thor and the Hulk to take charge and help the world recover, but their voyage as the Avengers and Earth’s Mightiest Defenders was coming to an end.  Thor left with the Guardians of the Galaxy—Peter still isn’t sure why.  Hulk, or _Professor Hulk_ (seeing Banner and Hulk work as a cohesive unit was still one of the many things Peter had yet to wrap his brain around), is doing his part as much as he can.  Bruce is an international figure, working his through third world countries to help rebuild as much as he can along with the help of T’Challa, the king of Wakanda. As for Captain America, he’s gone… _time-traveled_ back to the ‘40s to give himself the life he never had.  Yes, some people say it was selfish of him.  How could Captain America abandon the world when they needed him the most? But Peter didn’t feel like that. What Steve Rogers sacrificed over the course of his life was enough, and he deserved a happy ending, too.

Steve Rogers died one month ago.

Peter let himself mourn, let himself cry, but everyone kept telling Peter that Tony would have wanted him to keep going.  That Tony wanted to the world celebrate, not mourn.  Peter found some comfort with the other undusted Avengers, who were experiencing the same feelings of confusion and loss.  Hell, even Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes, two people who Peter himself fought during the Civil War, guided Peter the past three months… as much as they could.  Even though it felt like the world would never recover with the death of Tony Stark, Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff as well, it did.  The world kept spinning, and the people on earth had to figure out how live again.

The aftermath of the war was still spreading.  There was a lot to undo after the snap.  Families were torn apart: parents were dusted, and children were left abandoned.  Businesses or warehouses all across the world turned into homes for these children, places to be given warm-cooked meals and connections with people who were mourning. From what Peter heard, Natasha, Steve and Rhodes were doing what they could to bring families together for those five years.  They helped set up search parties for children to find other family members that survived or bring them to these shelters.  Now that the rest of the population was back, families and friends needed to be reunited.  Communities had to be rebuilt.  Governments had to be readjusted to work with a bigger-sized population.  A lot of that work was left on the remaining survivors. Any restrictions or warrants for arrest set by the Sokovia Accords and those supporting the document were void. This allowed for the James Rhodes and Sam Wilson, who had been given the Captain America shield after Steve died, to take the mantel of leading what was left of the fragmented Avengers.  By his side, Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne and so many others spread out across the world. 

In New York alone, there was so much that had been done in the three months since the snap. Peter did what he could, as both Spider-Man and himself.  Now that the rest of New York was back, industries needed to be rebuilt; food, clean water, homes and gas suddenly became scarce as the population size increased so rapidly.  There were plenty of skids along the way, diplomatic problems about international trade of goods that Rhodes, Wilson and Thaddeus Ross were working on smoothing over. Then again, you’d be surprised how much the world can come together in a time of crisis.

“Peter? Peter is everything alright?” Karen asked, as though she was his mom.  “You’ve been standing there for a while.”

Peter looked around, trying to bring himself back to reality.  The atmosphere was quiet, which suggested to Peter that a good number of the police officers had already taken off to bring the perps to the station to book them.  “Oh,” Peter said.  “Yeah, I should get back.  May is probably worried about me.”

* * *

That night, Peter fell asleep on the air mattress May set up on her floor that night.  Maybe it was a little weird that Peter had spent the majority of the last three months curled up in a pile of blankets and falling asleep next to the sound of May’s breathing, but to the two of them, they needed this to recover. Unlike Peter, May survived the snap. She spent the last five years lost, trying to find her footing and trying to fill that gaping hole that Peter left when he disappeared.  Getting snapped out of existence wasn’t Peter’s fault but leaving and going to space without even sending her so much as a text that said he loved her was just plain cruel.  She spent all those weeks crying, begging for him to come back… but he never did.  The apartment alone wasn’t enough to show that Peter had been gone for five years: Peter’s pictures were still everywhere on the walls and the tables; his room was still kept clean, vacuumed and dusted regularly.  It was like Peter was living there, like May acted as though everyday she saw her nephew. When Peter knocked on the door again five years later, bloody and bruised and tear-streaked, Peter didn’t think May would ever let him go from her ridiculously tight hug.

“You can _never_ leave me again,” she sobbed into his shoulders.  Peter found himself crying with her, crying because he was mourning the loss of his mentor. Crying because every part of his body hurt.  And crying because he missed her so much, and he lost so much time with May that he was never going to get back.  “You can never do that!”

“I won’t! I won’t!” Peter promised. 

That first night back, Peter stayed in May’s room.  They comforted each other as much as they could.  May caught Peter up as much as she could in one night.  It was a tradition that continued every night. A lot of times Peter would fall asleep in May’s arms as she shared stories of everything that’s happened in the past five years.  After a while of talking, May would coax Peter to the air mattress or just let him sleep in her arms. 

Even after three months, there was still so much that Peter didn’t know.  Five years is a long time to miss.  A few google searches and a few hours with May every night just wasn’t enough for Peter to learn about everything that’s happened. Peter wasn’t just interested in global-wide events, like the newly-elected president, the new inventions, the natural disasters, famous people that died, famous people that made a comeback—trying to keep with all the changes in pop culture was difficult enough for Peter to swallow.  Trying to adjust and learn what happened and what changed in Queens, New York, in his very own backyard, was a bigger challenge.

Peter wasn’t sure whether to say it was lucky or unlucky that most of Peter’s friends were snapped out existence along with him.  Ned.  MJ. Cindy.  Betty.  Flash. They all disappeared right in the middle of class.  Trying to go back to school after what happened made Peter physically nauseas at times.  Half of Midtown was filled with old friends, people Peter grew up with.  The other half were strangers—students that were in junior high when the snap happened and now were the same age as Peter and the others.  Dr. Strange told everyone that if you had been undusted, you were still the same age as you were five years ago.  _You can’t age if you stop existing,_ he told everyone.

That was the difficult part: trying to manage school when the seniors that were older than Peter and MJ and Ned were once _younger_ than them.  Other than the students that made up Midtown, there were other changes that Peter had to deal with.  Mr. Harrington, Peter’s favorite teacher and his Decathlon coach, survived, but he was so overwhelmed with the grief of losing his favorite students that he moved somewhere to the Midwest.  Principal Morita retired.  Abraham, Isabella and Jason Ionello were in college.  Getting a job, finding a home, that kind of stuff is easy to deal with compared to these kinds of changes.

Peter laid on the air mattress for a few seconds longer to gather his bearings, only pitter patter of footsteps echoing from outside was alarming to Peter.  It wasn’t just May—there were too many footsteps. And quickly, as the door to May’s room burst open, Peter realized who was here.

“Peter!” squealed Morgan Stark.  Dressed in an Iron-Man t-shirt and pink leggings, she came sprinting toward Peter, jumping up on the air mattress and throwing her arms around Peter’s neck.

“Hey kiddo,” Peter said with a smile.  “What brings you here?”

He managed to get himself up out of bed and into the living room, all the while holding onto the little girl.  Morgan kept her hold on Peter tight, as though he was the most important person in the world to her right now. 

“Breakfast!” Morgan said, excitedly.  She wiggled herself out of Peter’s arms and ran back into the kitchen where Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan and May were preparing breakfast.

Pepper, Happy and Morgan were over a lot, not that Peter was complaining.  Tony cared about Peter the way that a father would with a son, and that relationship and bonding transferred to Pepper more so than ever after Tony died.  May and Pepper were bonding too, and unfortunately part of that was because May knew a thing or two about how it felt to lose your husband and someone you greatly loved. Happy, on the other hand, knew Peter long before Pepper did.  Happy was supposed to be Peter’s go-to guy whenever he needed help and Tony Stark wasn’t around to answer the phone.  At first, Peter always felt like kind of a nuisance when it came to working with Happy, though that relationship has transformed into a partnership now.  And as for Morgan… Peter hadn’t known this little girl for that long, but he loved her with his whole heart.  Every time Peter saw Morgan, she greeted him with a wide bear hug, a sweet smile and a loving stare from her brown eyes.  It was like looking at a spitting image of Tony. Even though Peter was nothing short of completely happy that the Starks were still a part of his life, it only made it harder to move on.

“Didn’t know you three were coming over,” Peter said as he settled in to one of the chairs at the kitchen table.  Sitting in front of him were plates of eggs, bacon, muffins, orange juice, the works.

Pepper smiled.  She put her hand on Peter’s shoulder.  “Thought it would be nice to stop by for breakfast.  Plus, Morgan’s been dying to see you.”

“I missed you,” Morgan giggled.

Peter’s heart ached from both love for this little girl and from grieving because Tony wasn’t here to see this.  “I missed you, too,” Peter said, patting Morgan on the back.

“What are you doing today?” Pepper asked as she settled in the seat opposite of Peter.

“I have dinner with Dr. Strange,” Peter said.

“Dr. Strange?” Morgan asked.  “The guy with the sparkling hands?”

Peter chuckled.  “Yeah, that’s him.  I think Sam, Wanda and Bucky are coming over, too.”

“So, this is an Avengers meeting?” Happy asked.

“Dunno,” Peter admitted, and he really didn’t.  Peter every now and then would be invited over for dinner at Strange’s ridiculously big mansion.  Typically, another one of the surviving Avengers would stop by and, though these weren’t supposed to be Avengers-business meetings, it almost always turned into that.  “Probably. It’s like Bucky and Wanda and all the others have nothing else to talk about.”

Pepper frowned.  “You shouldn’t be so hard on them,” she said, quietly.  “A lot of them don’t have anything else besides their job.” 

She looked around everyone at the dinner table.  _Her family.  Peter’s family._ Peter supposes Pepper had a point about that: it wasn’t like the Winter Soldier, a former brainwashed Hydra spy who assassinated dozens, had family he could go home to in order to get a homecooked meal. 

“I guess you’re right,” Peter said. 

Momentarily, silence fell among the group, but it ended quickly when Happy asked, “How was rounds last night?  Heard you stopped an armored car-heist.”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” May added as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “Saved my bank a lot of problems.”

Peter shrugged.  “It was alright…” Peter said.  He was hoping that the others would pick up on the fact that Peter didn’t exactly want to talk about this. Yeah, he did some good by stopping some criminals, but Peter couldn’t get the image of Tony on the wall out of his head.  Nor could he get those words out of his head… _I hope they remember you._

“Just alright?” Pepper prompted.

Peter bit his lip.  At first, he thought he could just brush off rounds with no problem, but these people were the closest thing Peter had to family.  There was no point in lying.  “Someone painted another shrine for Tony,” he finally said.  The air felt suddenly thicker and heavier.  Any traces of smiles that was on Pepper, Happy or May’s faces quickly dissolved as the conversation shifted from Peter’s rounds to the late Tony Stark.  “It’s just… everywhere I go I see his face.” 

Pepper looked away, tears filling her eyes, and Peter felt a spasm of guilt shoot up his back.  He didn’t want to make Pepper cry and he should have been more thoughtful for her and Morgan’s feelings.  Tony felt like Peter’s adopted dad but Tony was actually family to the two of them. The grief that Peter felt just wasn’t comparable to the grief that Pepper and Morgan must feel.  

“Oh,” May said. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter said.  “We can talk about something else.”

Pepper shook her head.  “No. No, that’s okay,” she sniffled. Morgan immediately went to her mom’s lap.  The little girl curled her head into Pepper’s shoulder.  Pepper gently pressed her fingers onto Peter’s hand.  “Tony, _years ago_ , once said at a Stark-Expo that what he does isn’t about saving himself or even just saving the day.  He said it’s about legacy.  It’s about what he leaves behind for future generations.  He left behind a safer world.  For me.  You. Morgan,” she said, almost instinctively running her finger through the little’s girl hair.

“I just miss him so much,” Peter whispered.

“We all do,” Happy said. 

The conversation quickly turned somber, and there was no chance it was going to recover now that Tony’s death was brought up.  Feeling like he ruined breakfast, Peter stayed quiet as he watched the others eat their food, not really hungry himself. 

When it was time for Pepper, Happy and Morgan to go, May and Peter walked the three of them to their car.  Morgan gave him the most ridiculous bear hug, as though her grip was going to hug away all the pain and all the grief.  “I’m gonna miss you,” Morgan said, not looking go of Peter.

“I’ll miss you, too,” Peter whispered.  He knelt down to ruffle her hair.  “I’ll see you soon, though.”

She nodded.  “I know. I love you 3,000.”

Peter had to swallow back his tears; he saw the tape Tony made that was played at his funeral.  Peter hugged Morgan again and said, quietly, “I love you 3,000.”

* * *

When Peter pulled up to Bleeker Street that night, Stephen Strange was already waiting on the side of the road.  It seemed like Dr. Strange practically lived in his blue robes and red cloak, so seeing him now, dressed in jeans and casual gray sweater, felt kind of weird.  He no longer wore the gold chain around his neck that kept the Time Stone protected. Captain America tried to explain what had happened in order to bring the dusted population back: they had to do some time travel thing to find the past times because the present ones were destroyed—Peter’s head hurt just trying to comprehend _time travel._ All that Peter knew was that six stones were gone.  Dr. Strange’s most important task of protecting that stone was no longer his responsibility.

The relationship that Peter and Dr. Strange shared started off by being trapped in a spaceship going to greet Thanos on the planet Titan; he was no more than someone Peter teamed up with.  But now that Tony was gone, Dr. Strange was trying to fill those shoes in Peter’s life.  Dr. Strange made for a good mentor in the sense that, when Peter had a problem or an ethical dilemma about how to go about a problem, Dr. Strange had an answer. But Stephen Strange wasn’t exactly what Peter could call a father-figure.  If Peter was having a bad day at school or needed help studying for a science test, Tony was there for him.  For _any_ little domestic, everyday thing that Peter faced.  Even though it’s only been three months so Peter and Strange’s relationship might change, Peter felt like there was no one who could replace Tony Stark.

“Was the drive alright?” Dr. Strange asked he held the door open for Peter.

“Thanks. And, yeah, it was fine.  Place looks like,” Peter said.

“Figured I try to clean up for the group,” Strange said, shrugging.  “Let’s go into the kitchen, shall we?”

Peter followed Dr. Strange past the grand staircase and to the kitchen.  It was clean, almost so clean that it seemed as if Dr. Strange and Wong hardly ever used it.  The oven was on and something was boiling on the stove—it smelled _delicious._ “Do you need any help?” Peter asked.

“I’m almost done,” Dr. Strange said, checking something whatever was boiling on the stove.

It was hard to tell how much Dr. Strange had been impacted by the snap five years ago. While the group on Titan was arguing over the best way to attack Thanos, Dr. Strange was having some kind seeing-in-the-future episode.  Watching him, his head twitching about and the Time Stone glowing, freaked Peter out.  During that time, Dr. Strange had to have figured out that he was going to be dusted. Would that have made it easier for him? Or just more difficult, knowing that no matter how hard he tried to fight, Thanos would still win?

“How have you been holding up?” Strange asked, interrupting Peter’s thoughts.

_That_ was loaded question, one that Dr. Strange asked Peter practically once a week.  “Alright,” Peter said.  “It’s just weird being back.”

“How so?”

Peter bit his lip.  “You know, I have this friend.  Her name is MJ—well her name is Michelle Jones, but her friends call her MJ. Anyway, she was dusted just like me. When she came back, she was still 17. The thing is, she had a younger brother by three years, and he survived the snap.  She and I are going to be starting our senior year in September… meanwhile, her ‘ _younger’_ brother is about to start his freshman year of college.  She missed his high school graduation.  Him getting his driver’s licenses.  Your younger brother is supposed to _stay_ your younger brother.  Yeah, it’s good that everyone’s undusted but how do you copewith that?”

Dr. Strange frowned.  “You have to learn how to live with the memories and the years that you didn’t get to experience,” he said, quietly.  “There is no easy way to do that, but if you don’t, I can’t imagine you’ll ever be able to move forward.”

 “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Peter muttered, not that it made Peter feel any better.  Trying to change the subject, Peter quickly said, “Smells good.”

“Thank you. Old recipe…” Strange said.

The conversation died out again.  Silence was always difficult: all Peter could think of Thanos and this whole mess and he was sure that Strange was going through something similar.  Keeping up a conversation was the only to keep Peter’s mind from dwelling.

This time, though, they were saved by the bell—well, doorbell.

“That must be the others.  Can you get the door?” Dr. Strange asked.

“Yeah, I got it,” Peter said, pushing himself out of the kitchen chair and eagerly opening the door to let the others in.

Outside, stood: Wanda Maximoff, one of the most violent and terrifyingly powerful people on the team; Bucky Barnes, a former, brain-washed Hydra agent; and Sam, another war-criminal who _just_ took on the mantel of Captain America.  Though they were all dressed in laymen clothes, it wasn’t like these three people could ever be inconspicuous.  After saving the world three months ago and trying their hardest to undo any damage that was done, the Avengers—the _New Avengers_ as the media called them—were loved and adored by the public more so than they had ever been.  That love was shared with the deceased Iron Man, Captain America and Black Widow, too. They were all awarded a Medal of Honor. Monuments had been built for those three.  The park where Tony first fought two of Thanos’s goons five years ago had been rebuilt and renamed after him.  Considering that the world was obsessed with the heroes who saved the masses from the evil titan Thanos, it came to no surprise that anyone within a close radius of Strange’s house had stopped to take photos of the trio.

“Come on in,” Peter said, and the three eagerly got out of the spotlight.

Peter had no idea what these three had been up to: it could have been anything from assisting family reunions in Europe to stopping a power grab in a third world country. Judging by their physical appearance, though, faded bruises, cuts and scrapes on their arms and cheeks, they must have gotten into some kind of fistfight.  Peter couldn’t say that he was good friends with the three Avengers who just walked inside.  Hell, the first time Peter ever interacted, the three of them were on Cap’s side of the Civil War and it felt like they were trying to kill Peter.  The next time they interacted was after the big fight with Thanos.  Steve, before he decided to time travel back to the ‘40s, had called for an emergency Avengers meeting with all the heroes that had survived.  It was, in part, a reunion between the dusted and undusted, but it was also the chance to regroup.  Everyone was assigned a country to work with, all except those with family: Clint, Scott and Peter—well, Peter was assigned Queens.  At that very meeting, Wanda, Bucky and Sam came up to Peter to apologize for what had happened at the airport in Germany.

_No harm, no foul_ , Peter whispered back to them.  He meant it, too.  In the grand scheme of things, fighting against each other during the Civil War really didn’t matter anymore.  When the group disbanded, Peter just assumed he was never going to see any of them again, but Dr. Strange has these regular dinners with these three, as if these four were the only Avengers left to deal with this stuff.  Peter, though he didn’t always have a lot to contribute, was always invited.

“Smells good in here,” Sam Wilson said.  “What are you cooking?”

“Chicken. Mashed potatoes,” Dr. Strange said. “Good home-cooked meals.”

“That sounds great.  Where’s Wong?” Wanda asked as she settled into a chair across from Peter.  She had a better relationship with Strange and Wong than the other two, something about how Strange had given Wanda some training on how to hone in her powers.

“Training others back on Kamar-Taj,” Dr. Strange said.  “We lost a lot of good people in that fight.  Have to make up for numbers somehow.”

The others looked away, sheepishly.  Even Peter felt a little guilty.  These past three months, he really only found himself concerned with the three core Avengers who had died.  What he never stopped to think about was the sheer number of other armies from other worlds and other teams outside of the Avengers who had lost men.  Dr. Strange had brought the entirety of the Master of the Mystic Arts.  Thor had brought what he called the Valkyrior, the army of Odin.  T’Challa brought his army and his incredible tech. If it hadn’t been for these other armoires, Thanos probably would have won. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky finally said.

Dr. Strange shrugged as he started to put platters of food on the table.  “They knew what they signed up for.”  Once Peter and the others piled on the food in front of them, the shop-talk continued.  “What did you see in Ukraine?” Strange asked.

Wanda shrugged. “Nothing too serious.  It was just a few rival gangs getting a little trigger-happy.”

“We defused the situation as much as we could,” Bucky continued.  “We helped the local police force do a raids a couple of the gangs’ headquarters.  Arrested a few of the higher-ups.  Helped to disband the gangs.  Now that it’s really just the legal process left, there wasn’t much else for us to do.”

“But in terms of, uh, big-scale threats?” Strange prompted.

Bucky shook his head.  “That wasn’t one of them.”

“You’d think after Thanos and his army was snapped away to hell three months ago, crime like that would have paused at least for a little bit,” Sam muttered, picking at the food in front of his plant.  “People never cease to amaze me.”

“Have you heard anything from T’Challa?  Carol?” Dr. Strange asked.  Nick Fury and SHIELD did a pretty good job trying to cover everything up in the ‘90s when this Captain Marvel apparently first came to Earth, so Peter didn’t even know who she was when she showed up, ripping apart warships during that fight. She attended Tony’s funeral and came for Steve’s a couple months later, but other than that, she’s been MIA.

“T’Challa’s been taking care of international problems with Rhodes and Banner.  There’s been a few power grabs between countries within the last five years and now that all governing parties are back, people are trying to take what was once theirs… and all this other shit,” Bucky finally said, throwing a bone of chicken back onto his plate.  “As for Carol, we’re not really sure where she is.  On some other planet probably, helping out where she can most likely.”

“Hopefully, we won’t need her any time soon,” Sam said with a resounded sigh.

“If we do, she’ll come,” Wanda reassured.  “But with the five us, I’m sure we’re more than capable of handling things ourselves.”

Peter looked between the four adults.  “Are we?” Peter said without thinking.  When the others looked to him for more explanation, Peter sighed, “I mean, are we capable of handling things ourselves?  I mean… we’re not the Avengers.” The silence that followed was excruciating.  Maybe it was too judgmental, too harsh to share that thought openly with the rest of them but _come on._ Yes, the three of them could probably rough a few people up no problem… but this wasn’t a team.  This wasn’t like the Avengers, led by Captain America and Iron-Man.  The three of them were physically, mentally and emotionally beat-up.  They were all snapped away just like Peter, all struggling to handle the trauma and grief just like Peter.  And right now, they were acting as if nothing happened, as if the fact that they took over a pretty dangerous job was business as usual.  “I’m sorry,” Peter started again, “maybe that’s not what you want to hear but—”

“No, we’re not that Avengers,” Sam said, quietly.  He didn’t sound angry or offended.  Just exhausted.  “Wanda may not be as in control of her powers as Thor.  Bucky might not have the spy abilities as Clint Barton.  And I’m not even close to Captain America.  But we’re the best earth has right now, and we have to continue the legacy that Steve, Nat and Tony left.  Thanos is gone, yeah, that’s for damn sure.  Tony Stark made sure of that.  But that doesn’t mean there won’t be another psychopath raining down hell on earth because they feel like it.  If we don’t take over, Earth doesn’t stand a goddamn chance.”

Dr. Strange put his hand on Peter’s shoulder.  “Whether you like it or not, and whether you’re ready to move on or not, the Earth will always need another Iron-Man.  And another Captain America.  And another set of Avengers.”

“That’s us,” Wanda said, quietly.  There were tears in her eyes.  “It has to be us.”

“I—” Peter stopped himself. 

What he felt couldn’t put into words.  Part of him felt like he was betraying the legacy that Tony created for himself and for the team.  Tony invested his life into the Avengers.  Blood, sweat and tears went in to every blueprint, every weapon, every uniform, _every fight._ What the Avengers stood for stemmed from Tony.  Not that there was anything wrong with Sam, Bucky and Wanda, but they couldn’t replace the original six.  No one could replace what Tony had built from the ground up, and what Captain America and Black Widow led.  On the other hand, discontinuing this team was just as bad. Tony and Natasha gave up their lives to save the world—someone needs to keep protecting it.

Trying to juggle his conflicting feelings was crippling.  Ringing fills Peter’s ears.  “I-I-I need to get out of here,” Peter said.  He got up from chair so quickly and fervently that it clattered onto the ground.  “Uh, sorry, sorry,” he stammered, grabbing hold of the chair and lifting it back up. The four adults took a step forward. Only, Peter didn’t let them catch up to him.  He was already racing out the kitchen to the balcony in the back.  It wasn’t like Peter was going to leap off the balcony and run away.  Peter just needed a second to gather his thoughts, and he couldn’t do that with the others around.

Peter threw the doors to the balcony shut, so loud that it felt like everyone in the streets below had heard him.  Maybe Peter was being dramatic or unfair.  Sam, Bucky and Wanda were trying their hardest and they deserved to get credit for what they were doing.  He knew they weren’t disrespecting Steve, Tony and Nat by assuming their positions and trying to create a new image for the Avengers.  It’s just, Peter wasn’t ready for that, yet.  He wasn’t ready to see Sam Wilson don the shield in the fight the way Steve did or to see Rhodes be the face of the Avengers in every press conference like Tony once did.  It was hard enough with Peter juggling the fact that he didn’t recognize half the students in his graduating class anymore.  Trying to wrap his head around the fact that there was a group of _New Avengers_ felt damn near impossible.

He heard gentle, quiet footsteps from behind.  Expecting it to be Dr. Strange, Peter was surprised when Wanda Maximoff leaned against the awning beside him.  He barely knew her.  In fact, any time someone brought her, Peter thought back to how terrifying she looked at the fight in Germany, with those glowing eyes and that mysterious, unfightable telekinesis that she possessed.  Peter distinctly remembered dodging flying bits of plane and car as he tried to charge after Team Cap.  And he knew about her backstory, what she did to Tony, Bruce, Nat and the other Avengers. Wanda could get inside people’s heads and twist around their thoughts until all they see are their worst nightmares. Though Tony never outwardly expressed how he felt about Wanda, Peter always knew there was a part of Tony that was scared of her.  Scared of the power she possessed.  When Peter saw her on the battlefield at the compound three months ago, Peter had every right to be afraid of what she was capable of.  The image of what she was doing to Thanos’s army and what she capable of doing to Thanos himself was burned in Peter’s memory.  Her magic allowed her to crush her enemies within their own armor.  She brought warships to dust with a mere flick of her wrist.  She almost killed Thanos if hadn’t been from him shooting the place to hell.  What Wanda was able to do was unlike Peter could have ever imagined.

But right now, as she settled on the porch beside him, Peter didn’t feel afraid.  Her blue wide eyes, irises somewhat tinted red ever since she returned from the snap, were soft in expression.  Her thin, pale lips were pulled into a sheepish smile, brown hair tucked behind her ear.  Even with gentle smile, the light makeup and the clean, curled hair, Peter could see the mask she wore.  Wanda was pretending to have all the strength in the world, but on the inside, she was just as fragile as Peter. 

“Can I join you?” she asked, quietly.  In her nail-polished hands, she was clutching two cups of hot chocolate.

Peter nodded. “Yeah.  That for me?” he asked.

“One of them.” Wanda sniffed one of the hot chocolates and then handed it to Peter.

Peter raised his eyebrow.  “What was that about?  You aren’t trying to poison me, are you?”

Wanda laughed. “No.  Promise.  You’re under 21, right?”

“Yeah. So?”

Her cheeks flushed slightly pink.  “Mine may have a little bit schnapps in it,” she whispered, as though Dr. Strange was going to come outside and scold her for drinking alcohol.  “Our secret.”

Peter chuckled. “Didn’t realize drinking was a crime. Unless you’re under 21…”  Peter stopped himself.  “You are over 21, right?”

“I’m 23,” Wanda said, quietly.

“Wow,” Peter said, and he wasn’t pretending to be surprised.  Captain America often referred to her as ‘the kid’ of the team, but Peter always assumed she was in her mid to late-twenties.  Now that Peter knew how old she was, he couldn’t help but feel bad.  _Twenty-three years old_ , and to have gone through as much as she has in her lifetime.  Though Peter was never one to self-pity, he always thought that for someone as young as him, he’s gone through hell and back in just a few short years.  First the death of his parents, then with Uncle Ben… and now he supposes everything that’s happened with Thanos and Tony.  Wanda’s backstory wasn’t that much different—at least from what Peter has read about her, it doesn’t seem that different.  Her parents died; she lost her brother; after what happened with Ultron and Sokovia, she was no longer welcome on her home country of Sokovia. Not mention practically everyone, including Peter at one point, thought she was a monster.  To go through life with that kind of guilt complex and that lack of familial support at such a young age must have been heartbreaking. 

“Young.  I know,” Wanda muttered.  “What about you?  How old are you?”

“Um, I’m 17,” Peter said.

“And Tony Stark recruited you to fight in Germany when you were how old?” Wanda asked.

“Fourteen…” Peter answered.  “Pretty young too.”

Wanda nodded, taking a long sip of her hot chocolate.  “Wow…” she said, too.  “I threw cars at a fourteen-year-old.”

Oh.  _Oh._ Peter hadn’t expected that to be her response, but he knew she was coming from.  Peter struggles with insane amounts of guilt, even over things that in his heart he knew he had nothing to do with, just like her.  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Peter said.  “Even though I’m sure that doesn’t help… Look, I’ve had plenty of people tell him how thankful they were for Spider-Man, that the collateral damage didn’t matter because all the good I’ve been doing… doesn’t stop you from feeling guilty.  Ever.”

“Damage is still damage,” Wanda said with a curt nod.

“Yeah…”

There was a lull in the conversation in which the two of them quietly drank their hot chocolate. It was still a warm day in New York and, even though hot chocolate might seem like a weird thing to drink, it was what Peter needed.

 “Look Peter,” Wanda started after a long moment of silence.  “I know your upset but—”

“Don’t,” Peter interrupted.  “Please. I can’t—I can’t listen to another person telling me that it’s time to move on.  It’s been three months, Wanda.  _Three months._ You can’t expect me to be okay with forgetting about Tony and just move on by being a part of a whole new Avengers team.”  Peter could feel the color return to his cheeks, tears brimming his eyes.  He was so sick of crying.  “I can’t do that.”

“I wasn’t asking you to,” Wanda said.

Peter rolled his eyes.  _Sure, you weren’t._ “So, why are you out here, then?”

“Because, no matter what people may say or what people might lead you to believe, you and I aren’t actually all that different,” Wanda said, quietly.  That got Peter’s attention, and he turned to face her.  “We both lost most, if not all, of the family we once had.  I know you may think you want to be alone right now, but you don’t have tohandle grief and pain on your own. Believe me, I’ve tried shutting people and it doesn’t work.”

“When have you tried doing this on your own?” Peter said.

Wanda chuckled, but it was without humor.  “I spent most of my life grieving.  I grieved for my parents, my brother, for the home I grew up in and would never be allowed to go back to.  There was a time period where I shut myself from the others.  I barely ate, wouldn’t let anyone in my room, didn’t let myself trust another person the way that I trusted Pietro.”

“What changed?”

“Steve is a very persistent person,” she said through a smile.  “His daily visits to my room in the compound wore me down.  The very first time I ever talked to him, I broke down into tears… and he just sat there and held me.  It didn’t matter what I had done to him or the other Avengers. All that was that he was there for me the way that my brother used to be there for me.  Soon enough, Nat came around.  Trained me like I was her own daughter.  Then I met Sam, and then Viz and I got close.” 

Peter knew Vision in passing, and that was only because the android was on Tony’s side during the Civil War.  He was kind of a weird dude, which in part was because Vision wasn’t technically human. It was sometimes hard to have a conversation with the guy, but Peter could tell Vision was trying.  Rumor has it that Vision and Wanda had a thing together so when Wanda had to go on the run, it was hard for Vision.  Now, based off Wanda’s face, Peter knew they must have cared about each other.  A lot. Peter didn’t know what happened at Wakanda five years ago, but all he knew was that Vision was dead and Wanda had survived. 

 “You loved him,” Peter said. 

A tear dripped down her cheek.  “I think so,” she said.  “But he’s gone now.  And so is Steve.  And Nat.” 

“Your family,” Peter concluded.

“My family,” Wanda agreed.

“How can you possibly move on?” Peter asked.  “I mean, it’s been years since even _my parents_ died and I miss them so much.”

She shook her head.  “You never really move on,” she said.  “You can try, but that part of you is always gone.  You just have to learn to find new ways to love and to find more people who care about you.  I may not have Vision, Steve or Nat.  But I do have Bucky and Sam and Clint.  There are people in the world who care about me, and I have to hold on tight to those people and never let go.”  Wanda lifted her fingers up, red swirling around them.  “I used to hate these powers, but it gives my life meaning.  Meaning that Steve and Natasha showed me.  I have to keep being an Avenger, I have to keep fighting.  For them.”

“Is that how your learning for live without the two of them?  Keep fighting?” Peter whispered. 

Wanda shrugged. “I’d say so. I can’t squander away the fact that I survived.  I have to keep doing good as an Avenger—or at least I’m trying to.”

“You are,” Peter said.

Wanda smiled, and this time, it looked genuine.  “Thank you.  Steve and Nat always wanted me to be proud of the person that I’ve become and the good I’ve done.  And… I think I’m starting to do that.”

Peter stayed quiet, eyes falling to the hot chocolate in front of him.  He couldn’t help but think about what Tony would have wanted for him.  Tony always wanted to create a better world for his family, his friends, _everyone_.  Years ago, when Tony returned after being held captive by the Ten Rings, he shut down his weapons manufacturing because it was no longer helping the world the way Tony had envisioned.  He attempted to do it with Ultron—yeah it didn’t work, but Tony had good intentions. And now, he gave the ultimate sacrifice for the world.  In exchange for Tony’s life, he got rid of Thanos so that everyone in the world could be safe from that titan.

“He’d want me to live,” Peter whispered.  “I mean, _really_ live.  Like have a normal teenage life.  Get a girlfriend.  Graduate high school.  But I can’t give up Spider-Man, either.”

“I don’t think Tony would have wanted that,” Wanda said, shaking her head, “but I agree that I think you should live your life.”

“Thing is, I don’t even know how to live a normal life,” Peter said.

“Trying going outof town for a while,” Wanda suddenly said.

Peter looked at her with a raised eyebrow.  “What do you mean?  Are you trying to get rid of me?”

Wanda shook her head, her lips barely breaking into a smile.  “No.  No, of course not.  I just think you deserve to live a little.  Go on vacation or something with your friends.  Visit London or something.  I never got a childhood Peter, so don’t throw away yours when you have the chance to live.”  That comment wasn’t supposed to be a personal invitation to pity Wanda, but rather an emphasis that Peter could still enjoy a life that he _deserved._  

Peter raised his eyebrows.  “Oh.  I mean, that would be fun.  I’ve really only been Germany.”

“For business,” she clarified.  Was that how she referred to Avengers-related missions?  Business?  “But not for fun.  Not as Peter Parker.  I bet you could have a lot of fun.”

Peter nodded. The thought of going on vacation so suddenly after what happened seemed like an ill-timed idea, but it would be nice to get out of New York, even if it was just for a little bit.  “Yeah.  I guess being far from home wouldn’t be too bad, especially since New York has you guys.”

“I think we’ll be just fine without you,” Wanda said with a smile. 

The two shared a quiet moment together, giving Peter the chance to process his thoughts.  _Tony gave him the chance to live,_ he kept thinking to himself.  _Tony died so that could Peter and his friends and his family could keep going._ Peter wasn’t going to waste this life that Tony gave him.

Someone cleared their throat, pulling Peter and Wanda from their respective thoughts. Peter craned his neck to see Sam and Bucky staring down at the two of them.  “I know you two kids are bonding without the old folks,” Sam said, “but the doc just put out dessert if either of you two want any.”

“Kids?” Wanda repeated.  “I’m not that much younger than you two.”

Bucky laughed. “I’m, like, 105 years old. Everyone’s a kid to me,” he said, chuckling.  “You coming, Spider-Boy?”

“Spider- _Man_ ,” Peter corrected, rolling his eyes.  “And I’ll come in in a second.”

Bucky just shrugged in response.  He put his arm around Wanda as the three of them walked back inside.  Peter couldn’t help but smile when he saw the smile stretched across Wanda, Bucky and Sam’s face.  The three of them went through trauma just like Peter, and to see the three of them slowly finding their footing without Steve, Tony and Natasha gave Peter hope.  If they could slowly put the pieces back together after everything that’s happened, Peter could do the same.

Wanda was right about one thing.  You can’t just _move on_ from someone who you lost. That piece of your heart and that piece of your soul will always be gone, but what you can do is surround yourself with as much love as possible to help make up for what you’re missing.  No one could ever replace what Tony Stark meant to Peter, that was for sure.  But May was family.  And Pepper. And sweet little Morgan.  Even Happy.  They had each other, and that had to be enough. 

Like Pepper said to Tony as his last breath left his body… _we’re going to be okay._

It was going to take time.  No, Peter wasn’t going to be able to find ways to live with Tony’s death anytime soon. But Peter was strong.  He knew in his heart of hearts that he could find a way to cope, to move on like the rest of the world was trying to do.

He was going to be okay.

~ THE END ~


End file.
